


Nothing Can Come Between You and I

by louloubaby92



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-03-21 06:15:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3681078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louloubaby92/pseuds/louloubaby92
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry needs to get to Louis, no matter what it takes. He will leave LAX and get to Heathrow, even if he has to fight every zombie in between.</p><p>Louis can't keep hiding from the walking dead. He needs to get to Heathrow and from there, catch his flight to Lax if he has any intention of seeing Harry again.</p><p>It’s been two years and they...they're still trying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. London

**Author's Note:**

  * For [areyoutenyearsago](https://archiveofourown.org/users/areyoutenyearsago/gifts).



> so this is for the prompt ''Some sort of apocalypse happens (zombie or not is up to you) and a lot of technology (wifi, cell service, etc) ceases to work. Harry is in LA at the time, but Louis is in London. After a year or two, one of them finds the other again after sailing across the ocean to get to them.''
> 
> -this isnt as graphic as the tag implied so i just wanted to point that out, like there's somewhat brief and i mean very brief dull horror moments but thats about it.  
> -this is my first ever fic exchange so i hope u like what i did with the prompt and that u enjoy it. let me know, i guess? anyways, um, thats it. oh and massive thanx to susanna chen for being a great editor. she's absolutely great.

 

It’s like being in a stampede. One minute, he’s just driving towards his and Harry’s flat from his workplace and before he knows it, the sound of metal grinding and people screaming is piercing every cell in his body. It takes one look in his rearview mirror to realize the horror of reality.

The news said the disease has spread throughout Europe and as composed as he could be, he had started packing up after work, regardless of Harry’s hysteric phonecall. He had checked twice upon his booked ticket to LAX and gone to work to get his last paycheck–more to fill his time than to sit idly by and wait for the news to relay horror–and now, zombies are everywhere in the heart of London.

It’s like that movie of Brad Pitt’s–Louis loves comparing his life to movies because he believes he is the British version of Leonardo- and can play Brad’s role just as good–and before he becomes the next driver who get pulled through the glass of his window and get eaten alive limb for limb, he is jumping out of the car, bumping into elbows, shoulders and ribs and running as fast as he can. He can only wish he is running towards Harry.

Drenched in sweat and still reeling from the fact that he made it out alive, the power gets cut off. He is still deadly calm though, as hard as that is to believe as he goes to the bathroom and takes a shower to keep his nerves down. He is still breathing hard as he tries to get a grasp of this disturbing change taking over the world.

Zombies. Man-eating humans. The Undead. Out of every world-ending scenario, this was seriously the least he expected. He thought maybe the sun would burn out and hell would freeze over. He thought of the second coming of Christ. He thought of the moon crashing into the only earth he’s ever known. But not this; not some disease that causes man to eat their own kind and he certainly did not think of the possibility of dying without Harry beside him – the thought of his flesh being chewed and him living with a missing limb–or worse, contracting the dreadful disease- was too awful to even think of. Dying seems a much better reprieve.

He remembers the phonecall with his boyfriend when the news broke out about this brain-riddled virus hitting London...

He was still reeling from the live stream on BBC showing a recap of the zombie attack in the heart of Paris, Milano and Madrid. When he picked up the phone, he almost didn’t notice Harry’s hyperventilating voice, his eyes glued to the screen of his telly.

“Lou? Lou, answer me. Baby, you have to leave. You gotta get out of London. They’re everywhere, Oh my God, Lou baby, please…’’ Harry almost wails and only then, his eyes blink.

“Harry, shit.’’ Louis startles himself as he turns down the volume of the news–horrifying images of a couple of zombies in Notting Hill hitting bookshops with bloody mouths–playing in the background noise. Louis cannot focus entirely and so it takes another second for him to realize that Harry is crying over the phone.

“Lou, they’re all over London. You have to leave…’’ Harry cries.

“I…shit, this is too soon. I, I didn’t even pack...’’

“I don’t care!’’ Harry all but shouts. Louis recognizes the familiar panic in his voice.

“You are leaving London right now, so help me God.Baby, I will have you kidnapped if I have to. I have your ticket booked so you don’t need to pack, you just…’’

“Okay, okay, calm down, love.’’ Louis interrupts because it sounds like Harry is about to burst an artery. “Stop crying, okay? Shit, this is real. Okay, when’s the flight?’’

“Tonight.’’ A rough sob comes with the word. “I am so sorry, I tried to find an earlier ticket but all the flights are fully booked. You have to get to the airport regardless, it’s gonna be safer there, better security and shit.’’

“Okay, that makes sense.’’ Louis turns off the telly entirely when it featured a zombie going crazy over a woman’s fleshy arm and he sure as hell doesn’t want to throw up his breakfast. “Umm, how about you? You sure we’re gonna be completely safe there? I heard the virus didn’t strike the U.S.’’

 _So far,_ he thinks with a sinking heart.

“No, it didn’t, and by tomorrow night, they’re gonna close the borders to ensure it stays that way. Shit, this is happening too fast.’’

“I know.’’ And it’s true. He wouldn’t still be in London if the news were better at keeping them up-to-date, and they wouldn’t have to face this massive explosion of a reality they have no idea how to grasp.

“Louis, I’m scared out of my mind. I wish I never…’’

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Harry Styles.’’

Louis interrupts sternly. They had agreed, both of them, that Harry ought to accept that record producer’s offer to get himself to L.A. if he wants to get signed and be a proper singer, to sing in studios instead of bars, to fill up arenas instead of singing to drunken guests and to that specific blue-eyed bartender. Harry left three weeks ago and things were going fine, the news about the disease was mild and benign and Louis cared more about hearing from Harry than hearing the news anyways. Only now, he wishes he had balanced both things out.

“I’m sorry, I just wish you were here. Th-this is killing me.’’ He sobs. “I want you here right now and I can’t make that happen.’’

“You did, you booked my ticket and I promise I will be on the flight on time. It will be sunny beaches and zombie-free land as soon as I arrive. Don’t worry, love.’’ Louis assures him even though it’s all false bravado.

“Okay, okay.’’ Harry takes deep breaths. “I love you.’’

It sounds like a goodbye but Louis says it back anyways.

“Love you too.’’

 

He decided to go to work after that phone call because staying in his empty flat with the telly tempting him is frightening. Now that he’s back, the telly sounds much more comforting than what he witnessed out there.

He gets out of the shower only to realize he showered with his clothes on, too horrified and too shocked. Perhaps because he is too calm as well or because if he screams his fears out, the wrong people are gonna hear him instead of the good guys.

When he steps out of his soaked clothes and into comfortable travel clothes, he goes for his phone. He needs to speak to Harry, cry to him like he used to but he notices that his phone is about to shut itself down and the electricity hasn’t come back yet. He is tempted to call Harry still but his flight information is on his phone and he’d rather preserve whatever battery left in case of emergency.

 

Since he can’t scream or talk to anyone, he decides _fuck calmness_. He starts to cry.

 

He is scared and it’s not like before when his step-dad was beating the shit out of him and he had to limp to Harry’s house next door so that his boyfriend could kiss his bruises away. It’s not like walking down the school hallways under Harry’s protective arm because he’s afraid of what his classmates might think of his black eye and how cowardly he looks. It’s not like hiding behind Harry’s back when they packed up his stuff and he moved to London with Harry as soon as they graduated, his step-dad’s angry words being slurred at him from the door of his room with no one but Harry standing in the way. No, he is scared because for the first time in such a long time, he’s alone and when Harry was around he never felt that way.

He dries his tears after hours and yet the power has still not returned. Swallowing nervously, he packs a duffel bag with essential belongings and with a half-hearted peptalk, he steps out the door and walks out of the safe apartment he has lived in for two years with only Heathrow Airport and Harry in mind.


	2. LAX

 

Harry is at LAX, checking the incoming flights, waiting for flight 207 coming from Heathrow to arrive. He is four hours early but he can’t focus, can’t think, and he hopes it doesn’t remain that way for long, or at least until Louis is tucked safely under his arms. Till then, he can barely even breathe.

It felt like his whole life had crumbled when he saw the news confirming the disease have spread to London, where he left his sweetheart whom he’d known since high school. Yes, he didn’t really leave him but only went to L.A. to pursue his dreams that aren’t temporary anymore. No, it feels like he’s left him for real.

It wasn’t a tough decision to make when they’d discussed it. They had agreed that Harry would stay in L.A. recording music and that if it works out, Louis was to move out with him and if not, Harry gets to come back to his boyfriend with studio experience under his belt. It was a win-win situation. But they didn’t expect this.

They didn’t account zombies into their plans. They didn’t account for an apocalypse like this to hinder their happiness and turn it all to worry and fear.

It brings Harry back to the early days back in school, when he was still trying to win Louis over, trying to get him out of his shell, wondering why Louis would limp into class and seething when he’d see a bruise marring such a beautiful face...

 

He remembers being rough to his friends, pulling at their collars and barking angry words, asking them if they’d bullied Louis or something. It was unfair of him and he regrets it till this day because they may have been popular but they did not bully their peers. On the contrary, everybody loved Harry and his mates, walked the hallways with them as equals. Harry just didn’t know who would do such a horrid thing to that boy. He had persisted then and asked Louis in all the gentle ways he could, until finally Louis agreed to go on a date with him.

Louis was beautiful, he still is and Harry didn’t mind peeling his layers off one by one, unraveling him in all his grace as he got to know this quiet boy, got him to laugh and be completely himself.

That all changed when he drove Louis home one day and saw how Louis tensed up when they came closer to his house bathed in darkness. They were having such a good time and didn’t account for being so late. Harry didn’t understand why Louis just ran out of the car, promising to talk later without giving Harry the chance to give him a good night kiss. Next morning, Harry sat in his classroom, worried out of his mind. He’d never felt more agitated in his life, sitting there a few minutes before first period started, wondering, waiting...

He looked at his watch then back at the monitor, thinking _t_ _hree more hours_ and Louis would arrive. Three more hours was too long a wait though, just like when he had waited for Louis to enterfirst period but he never came.

He was a glazed-over mess that day, staring at doors, empty desks and untouched lockers, wondering if he had done something wrong, if Louis was avoiding him, if Louis knew of his intentions to kiss him so he freaked out and ran away.

Louis didn’t show up that day, nor did he show up the day after. On the third day, Harry’s world came crashing down when Louis walked in with a square-shaped bandage on his left eye, his right arm in a sling and his left arm holding onto a wooden crutch, not putting too much pressure on his left leg.

Harry didn’t know he’d moved until his hip collided with a desk upfront and books went flying as he’d narrowed in on Louis and met him at the door. He had no control over his legs as he stood hunched over Louis with worry, hands reaching out to touch Louis’ face gently with eyes full of concern for the shocked boy. Louis was embarrassed by Harry and the gazes of his peers who had gone silent upon Harry’s clumsiness.

“What happened to you? Who did this?’’ Harry asked in agony because how it was possible that the boy he’d been deeply infatuated with for the past three months could be hurt so cruelly?

Louis looked up at him confused and wondering, almost leaning against the warm touch of Harry’s hands on his cheeks. He smiled gently and all embarrassment was washed away.

“Help me sit first?’’ he asked.

Harry snapped out of it, and immediately obliged. He took off Louis’ school bag and slung it over his shoulder, then kicked aside any bag in his path to make a clear route for Louis. It was almost barbaric, how he pushed aside every desk corner that could bump into Louis, any leg that stuck out. He shoved past the people unkindly, unapologetic. He was delighted after hearing Louis’ soft cackles behind him though, the boy making his overprotective attitude all so worth it.

 

He pretty much served Louis hand and foot that day, making sure the hallways were clear for him and that no one stumbled into him in the cafeteria during lunch hour. He carried his books and would pretty much carry him if the entire school wasn’t up his nose, wondering why he’s going all caveman over this boy.

That was the day he found out that Louis’ alcoholic step-dad beat the shit out of him, and from that day onwards, he vowed to always protect Louis, always care about him...

And as the clock hands narrow down to two hours, Harry stands his ground with his eyes glued to the monitor, taking deep breaths. He couldn’t wait to continue with that promise he made to Louis, couldn’t wait to pick him up and hold him so tight that he would never let go.

 


	3. Ireland, 6 months later

The plane that took off from Heathrow never made it to LAX and for the first couple of months, the area of the crash was Louis’ safe haven.

It was like that scene from Brad Pitt’s zombie movie –yes, even now that the apocalypse has dawned on him, Louis still references to movies–the air hostess was complaining of a fever and in the span of 10 minutes in the air, she decided to eat people to relieve her suffering. It happened all so fast and before Louis knew it, people were stumbling and screaming over him to get off the plane mid-air. Louis tripped along as well, trying to keep up with the flow. There was the sound of flesh being ripped apart and he didn’t want to get left behind and be someone’s meal.As the passengers got more frenzied, the plane started to lose its balance. Louis lost his footing amidst the chaos, got knocked over and trotted.

When he regained consciousness, he found himself engulfed in debris and ashes. He realized to his horror as he extricated himself and looked around, that the plane had crashed, the plane that was taking him to Harry had crashed.

He doesn’t know how he survived the accident; he doesn’t know how he remained unconscious through all of it. But here he was, amidst burnt corpses and mangled bodies, with scratches and cuts all over his skin.At least he is alive and breathing, he thought. But he’s without Harry though.

Louis soon came to realize he was completely and utterly alone with a massive plane at his disposal. Still, he was worried the air hostess aka zombie girl was lying around, feeding on all the dead bodies around him. Looking at them, he couldn’t help but heed to the sickness in his stomach and vomit. It was awful. The smell was awful and worse, he was surrounded by it everywhere he looked.

Struck by panic, the first thing he had done was to scout the area. He was in a forest–all trees and greens and nothing modern for what seemed like miles. So, taking advantage of daylight, he gathered all the bodies up, dragged them across the woods and dumped them in the river nearby (for those wondering, he threw up again after touching the first corpse). Only the front of the plane where the pilot’s compartment was had been totally bashed, leaving half the body and tail of the machine. Louis slept on the couches in V.I.P. section that night and tried to drift away from the brutal reality.

Every night after that was the same, every day was the same. He was entirely alone, with nothing but the airline catering and the river nearby keeping him alive. He spent his time going through people’s luggage, trying to find anything to keep him company. Being out in the middle of nowhere made all the electronic devices useless in terms of Wi-Fi and signals. So, he sought solace by listening to music on someone else’s playlists. It was also the only way to cure his insomnia.

It’s not the fear of being found out by zombies or wild animals that keeps him from sleeping, but because he misses a certain curly-haired lad, wondering if the said lad is worried about him, driving himself insane and wondering where he is.

Five months into the crash, five months of loneliness, Louis spent most of his hours daydreaming, sifting through pictures on his phone of him and Harry. That is exactly what he is doing right now in the bed he claimed as his own in the V.I.P. lounge. The overhead light is still working regardless of the damage the plane had suffered through.

One picture is of him and Harry tucked in bed, with Harry spooning him. He was asleep and Harry looked sleepy as he held the phone up and took what he called a “sleepy-faced selfie’’ using Louis’ phone. Louis wanted to roll his eyes as he stared at the photo on his screen. In the photo, he was wearing a big white shirt that was obviously Harry’s and it was a silly habit of his–wearing Harry’s clothes both inside their apartment and when they’re going out. It wasn’t because Harry said they looked adorable on him but because he wanted to always remind himself that he belongs to the lad, in any possible way. Even when Harry was stepping out of his clothes to shower, Louis would pick them up and hold on to them for a moment before dumping them in the hamper, just until the warmth from Harry’s skin was gone because that heat belonged to Harry’s and Louis smelt nothing but Harry and safety.

Another picture was of Harry smiling tiredly at the camera from where he is slumped on their couch, down with the flu. Even though the boy batted Louis away several times because he didn’t want him to catch his sickness, Louis remained firm and tucked at his side, serving him soup and tea all day. And when he fell asleep, Louis carried him all the way to their shared bedroom, gangly weight be damned.

Louis misses him so badly, he feels like there’s a pitchfork stabbed in his ribs, searing pain shooting up his heart, making it beat erratically. He doesn’t know what is happening outside his cocoon, doesn’t know if Harry is safe or not and the thought makes him wake up shaking and soaked in sweat for weeks. Day after day, he dreamt of Harry’s face, all pale and bloody, and his limbs being torn apart.

A month later, making it 6 months into being missing-in-action, Louis is going through a similar night. He’d speared a fish by the river and did his best to roast it over a makeshift fire, glad he didn’t burn the forest down. Now, he is in usual sleeping-place, sifting through the same photos over and over again, like it’s the only way he can keep his sanity when having no one to talk to. Only because he might start bawling again like he has done most nights from missing Harry too much, he locks his phone and unplugs it from the charger an hour later, closing his eyes and letting them rest for just a second…

 

He pulled his phone from his pocket, checking his messages for a response from Harry. Enough time has passed and he’s been waiting for a confirmation from Harry that the boy had arrived safely in L.A. He was at work, looking at his phone every once in a while until it finally lit up with the message that brought him relief.

“Arrived safely, sweetheart, don’t get your panties in a twist xoxoxoxoxo’’ And Louis didn’t know what to reply with, too busy reading Harry’s message over and over again.

“Mate, just so you know,” Zayn whispered to him as he idled over the counter. Louis turned his head up so that it was no longer bent over the phone. “I can feel you smiling from across the bar. Get that whipped-off look off your face.”

“Sod off,” Louis said distractedly as he turned his back on Zayn and finally came up with a reply.

“Are you jetlagged, baby? Go get settled in your fancy L.A. complex, yeah? ;D’’

Harry then texted back details of the flat he was to be staying at and Louis served a couple of clients calling for him at the bar before he could read the rest of Harry’s message, making sure to school his expression so that Zayn couldn’t mock him anymore, before turning around again, phone out and texting.

“Oh that sounds lovely. I miss you already’’ he texted hesitantly, not wanting to come off too sappy.

Harry called then and Louis laughed.

“Got your attention now, did I?” he said as he hid in the kitchen in order to take the call and to his delight, Harry started laughing, calling him sappy just as he had predicted.

They talked for a few minutes about Harry’s flight–there wasn’t much to talk about from Louis’ end but Harry filled him with loads of details to keep the conversation going, doing most of the talking effortlessly and Louis was fine just hearing the boy’s voice.

When Harry went silent for a few moments, Louis spoke.

“Hazza, you asleep?”

He heard the rustle of sheets and Louis knows Harry must be in bed then, needing to rest up. Harry mumbled and then cleared his throat.

“No. Just jetlagged.”

“Figured,” Louis answered. “What are you waiting for? Go to sleep!”

“Nah, just waiting for my flat mate, he went to make me an extra pair of keys coz I don’t have any and the door’s locked so ought to wait till he’s back.’’

“So till then you’re gonna whisper sweet nothings to me, is that it?” Louis snickered.

“Well, why not?’’

Louis laughed, shaking his head at Harry’s serious tone.

“Don’t laugh, you love it.’’ Harry whined.

“Idiot,” Louis said with a chuckle.

“You love me. I’m your idiot.” Harry responded quickly, with a hint of pride.

“I do,” Louis said softy, and that’s when reality finally hitting home. Harry is in L.A. and he is in London. They are miles apart and Harry won’t be able to comfort him physically like he used to.

“You know, I don’t think I could sleep even if I wanted to.” Harry interrupted his thoughts.

“Meaning?”

“You know I can’t sleep without you,” Harry said, and then sighed. “I can’t remember the last time I slept in a bed that I didn’t share with you.”

“Yeah.” Louis couldn’t say more or else he’ll burst into tears and Zayn will mock him further when he comes out from where he’s hiding in.

“I miss you“

“Harry, stop.” Louis said warningly, but he forced a laugh so as to placate the boy. “I’m at work, babe, don’t make me break out crying here, yeah?’’ 

He heard Harry chuckle, and then he heard the sheets rustle further as the sound of a door opening and closing seep down the phoneline.

“Your flat mate’s back?’’ Louis asked.

“Yeah, his name’s Liam.’’ He heard a brief exchange of conversation as Harry thanked the so-called Liam for the keys. “He says hi by the way.’’

“Yeah? Already told him all about me?’’ Louis teased.

“Of course, had to make sure all the boys know I’m taken.’’

“God Haz, you’re killing me.’’ Louis whined softly. At that moment, he actually felt relieved. He didn’t need jealousy on his plate right now.

“Killing you softly with my song I hope?’’ Harry said and then laughed at his own pun. Louis shook his head at this idiot boy he claims his.

“Geez, you’re a menace. Go to sleep, love,” he said softly.

“What? It’s a great song.”

“Yeah, okay, we’re not talking about music right now. You’re jetlagged. Rest up.”

He heard Harry take a deep breath, and he knew, even without having to see, that Harry has closed his eyes.

“I love you, babe.”

“I love you too, sunshine. Sleep tight.”

“Okay.”

When Louis wakes up the next day after falling asleep to such vivid memories, it’s to the sound of voices –human voices. He freezes in his spot, clutching his phone to his chest.

 


	4. Nick's flat by Santa Monica Bay, U.S.

Harry froze as he startled awake. There were footsteps approaching. His blood ran cold, forming a cool sheen of sweat above his lip. He hates the feeling of not being able to see the danger that’s coming. It made icy chills erupt over the skin on his arms and the back of his neck. His brain was still too groggy, not as alert as he would like to be and too sleep-induced for once—too sunken into his dream where Louis is still by his side. He is trying to hold unto both his imagination and reality. The footsteps kept coming and there had to be some sort of mistake. _I_ _sn’t the complex a safe place?_

He hears human voices now and he breathes a sigh of relief as soon as he recognizes to whom they belong to. God, he wanted Louis to be with him in L.A. But now, half the states of the U.S. are swarmed by zombies. Still, he’d want Louis with him because together, they’d be able to protect each other and they might even fight zombies side by side.

It is why Harry had to leave his flat and joined his friends —who are still sane humans, thank God—and help patrolling his neighborhood in order to avoid the zombies. He’s currently at a complex flat somewhere near Santa Monica Bay, sleeping in one of the bedrooms before his shift starts. It’s actually the second place him, Ed, Zayn and Liam had moved into, the first being a mall. But that ended up being them chased around by a couple of fat-assed zombies and it was a close encounter Harry would very much like to avoid.

They were stuck in the mall for two weeks and by the time they made their graceless exit, L.A. had been on lockdown. On the hope of finding a place to stay, they decided to drop by Nick-the-record-producer’s place for a visit and thank goodness, that man was alive and breathing. Who knows Nick would be sucha gracious host.

Harry sighs; he remembers that Liam had said something about looking for food. Now, he’s sure that’s his friend whose footsteps he’d heard, with the goods for dinner.

He closes his eyes and burrows under the blankets, yearning to see Louis’ face the way he’d just seen him in his dream, the way he’d seen him whenever he closes his eyes—that had been rare because how on earth can he fucking sleep?Before it’s time for him to get up and stand by for any intrusion of the undead.

And in all honesty, as much as it exhausts him, he really can’t bring himself to sleep. Every time he does, it’s when he’s too tired to keep going and one of the boys would annoy him into getting some rest, even if it’s just a nap or else he’d collapse.

The night Louis’ flight didn’t make it and he watched on the news later on, seeing how it had crashed somewhere in the middle of Ireland, and how Heathrow airport had succumbed into chaos because of the zombies not even a few minutes before, he didn’t sleep for three nights in a row. He locked himself in his flat, refusing Liam’s offers of food, because his thought of a dismembered Louis was too unbearable, making him want to throw up.

Three months after the crash happened in Heathrow came the total and complete downfall of London. By then, USA could no longer keep up the barriers and soon, even they were unmatched against the spread of the disease. L.A. got a warning and everyone went fleeing but not everyone was ready. Some states were prepared and have barricaded themselves and that’s where he and the boys needed to go to. When Harry finally snapped out of his three months of weeping, he made the decision to leave the flat with Liam. He packed as much necessities as possible but made sure to pack Louis’ stuff as well, not wanting to leave them behind, and knowing that when he’ll get the chance, he is going to go find Louis, no matter how many countries he needs to cross.

When they’d gone to the mall to meet up with Zayn and Ed so that together they could make a run for it, the power got cut off and with the lock down; they were forced to stay for days. Liam had suggested they stick together and ignore other people stuck with them in the mall, lest they might get infectedsomehow and come after them. The boys agreed; Liam had never made bad decisions after all. Luckily, the lock down kept the zombies out and so they made sure to remain close to each other and locate every exit just in case they’d need to make a run for it—two weeks later, they did when the zombies intruded into their safe place ‘’.’’

“Haz? I got some food for you.’’ Liam said, his voice coming through the door. Harry got up, opened the door, thanked Liam quietly for the food then went back to bed. Liam sighed but let him; he knew how Harry was suffering these days with the absence of Louis weighing him down.

Harry opened a bag of Doritos and tried to eat but just couldn’t. It was just hard. Even now, it was still hard to comprehend, too difficult to grasp; Louis actually being lost somewhere, probably in pain, confused and afraid. No, he wasn’t convinced that Louis was dead, but its killing him that he doesn’t know where his boyfriend is—did he find himself in the middle of the chaos that had erupted in Heathrow upon arrival and had to retreat back to their flat? Or did he actually make his flight? If so, did he survive the plane crash?

What made Harry feel even guiltier is him having friends by his side and Louis having no one. Not long after Harry had gone to L.A. Zayn followed. Harry had recommended the Bradford lad when some friends of Nick talked about looking for some new R&B voice and Harry immediately jumped on the spot to recommend his and Louis' mutual friend. He didn't think at the time that Zayn joining him in L.A. meant Zayn leaving Louis behind too but Louis was happy for the both of them. At the time, it didn't matter. At the time, it was all about living the dream. Now, Harry wished Zayn remained in London because then, Louis would've had someone to comfort him, share with him their new reality. God knows who Louis is relying on now.

Every time he closed his eyes, Louis’ face would pop into his head, so vividly. The sound of his voice would ring in his ears for hours, the softness of his skin almost too real to ignore. His eyes so blue, they burned holes in Harry’s mind. Many times, the other boys caught Harry looking to the empty seat next to him or looking over his shoulder as if someone had touched him. On every occasion, Harry’s heart raced in a state of anxiety, wondering what his boyfriend is going through right now.

They’d been at the complex for close to two weeks now, making it four months since he’d last heard from Louis. The days went by pretty much the same—they took shifts guarding the exits and took turns when it came to risking their necks to get food and supplies. They hardly had conversations, focusing merely on staying alive and worrying about their loved ones. Harry didn’t know much about what was going on in the outside world as all electronics were shut off with the power gone and all he could do was hope that someone out there, a higher force, was looking into the place crashed, doing their best to search for Louis and bring him and any other survivor to a safe place. After all, Louis deserved that much.

 

Harry forced himself to eat and drink his Red Bull before he exited the bedroom and joined the boys downstairs. Zayn was asleep, Nick and Liam were talking in the kitchen and Ed was on guard by the window. Harry went to him.

“Any updates?’’ he asked, his voice a bit scratchy.

“Nope,’’ Ed replied, his eyes not leaving the window. “Liam and Nick just made it back in time, the cannibals are going to start coming out now.’’

Harry nodded. Zombies were always the hardest to fight at night.

After a couple of minutes of silence, Ed got up to sleep and Harry took his place. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness and his hearing had grown stronger, addressing the weird inhumane voices of the zombies outside the complex. It made him squirm.

He felt movement behind him and turned his head. Liam woke Zayn up; he needed to take up his post upstairs. As soon as he got up, Liam took his place on the couch. He looked drained, older than his age. Harry appreciated everything he did, same with the Bradford lad. Zayn was pretty nocturnal, so night shifts suited him. Nick was supposed to stand guard by the front door but instead approached Harry.

“You alright, mate?’’ he asked. Harry sighed. _W_ _as he that obvious_ _?_

Nick looked down at Harry then run a hand through his curls. Harry resisted the will to close his eyes. “You alright, mate?”

“No,’’ Harry said, not opening his eyes.

“Didn’t you sleep?’’

“Yes, but…’’ Harry sighed as he opened his eyes and stared at the window. There’s no point denying the obvious. “I miss him, and I’m worried about his safety. God knows where he could be and it’s been months and…"

"Hey, hey, it’ll be alright." Nick said smoothly. "Louis is fine if you say he’s fine. I know how strong you two are connected. It’s like gravity, mate. Creepy as shit."

Harry chuckled. Nick always has a way with words.

“Yeah.’’

They were silent for a few moments.

“You do notice that, don’t you?’’ Nick ventured, making Harry look up at him, confused. “Mate, whenever you’re in the recording studio, I’d see you look at your phone as if it’s gonna ring any moment before it actually rings. That’s like, some psychic shit.’’

“I’m just pretty good at predicting the time difference, is all...’’ Harry tried to say. He actually hadn’t noticed.

“Right.’’ Nick drawled, making Harry slap his arm.

“But seriously, that gotta be hard, being away from him. Tell me again why isn’t he here with you in L.A. in the first place?’’

“Long story, Nick. C’mon, don’t make me feel guilty about it.’’ Harry really, really didn’t need to hear it.

“No, that’s not what I mean. It’s just, I thought you’d be committed by now, you know?’’ Nick explained.

Harry understood what he meant and truthfully Harry doesn’t know why either—why he hasn’t put a ring on Louis’ finger yet, and why they didn’t get engaged straight after high school. It would’ve been perfect and Louis’ step-dad would have died of a heart attack. But Louis was still suffering from a bit of trauma after the night his step-dad took it too far and Harry wanted him to recover first. An engagement would have overwhelmed him even if there was a good chance that he’d say yes anyway.

“Yeah, but…he’d been going through a tough time back then and I didn’t want to push him.’’ He explained briefly, “God, he’s so brave, my Lou. I could move mountains for him if he’d asked me to, you know?’’ Harry felt his heart ache.

“Not that hard to imagine.’’ Nick indulged, knowing Harry needs someone to listen to him, hear him get his thoughts out.

Harry looked back out the window but his eyes were glazed over, his voice coming out all soft.

“Louis is everything to me, literally everything I ever wanted. He was raised in an abusive family and yet, in high school, he found joy in his classes, his teachers and his friends. He loves me so hard and so strong that the first time he said it; I almost got knocked over with the crushing weight of it, and yet, that love made me feel so whole and so important that before I knew it, I was living it, breathing it.’’ Harry paused as memories of happier days rushed through his mind like a downpour. “It came to a point where I don’t even remember a time that I wasn’t in love with him, you know.’’ He looked up at Nick here and saw the older man smiling fondly at him. “Like, of course there was one but I don’t remember it, like, I can’t bring myself to think back on a time when Louis didn’t control everything I did, when he didn’t inspire every song I sang. God, he’s the heart and soul of every lyric I put down on paper.” He sighed quietly. “He’s my entire world and to many it may seem suffocating and insane that one person is the driving force behind almost everything I ever do and yet, I’ve never felt more accomplished, more secure in my own skin, more confident to have him as my anchor.” 

Harry couldn’t help but trace the anchor tattoo on his wrist, remembering the look on Louis’ face when he told the lad he got it for him.

“Well, I suggest you think of that instead of worrying over him.’’ Nick said. “I know it doesn’t change the whole distance thing but I think it’ll help you, you know?’’

“Sounds like good advice.’’ Harry says quietly, thoughts racing at a slower pace now.

“Alright, mate. Best I go take up my post.’’ Nick announced. “But I’m just a corner of a room away if you need me, yeah?’’ he chuckled as he patted Harry’s shoulder. Harry smiled, feeling light in the chest.

“Thank you, Nick. You’re a good friend.’’ Harry said honestly. “Love you.’’

“Don’t go sappy on me, kid.’’ Nick said as he withdrew to the chair they placed by the front door. “Love you too.’’

 

The night passed and a couple months later, the complex was broken into. They put up a gallant fight; Liam axed zombies like a lumberjack, Zayn ran them over with a nearby car he’d managed to break into, Harry used a baseball bat. Nick, however, wasn’t so lucky.

With nothing but the three of them left, it was time to make the trek to Texas, where they’d heard it was barricaded and safe. God knows how they’ll do it, but they had no choice. It was time to go. With the loss of Nick, Harry longed for Louis now more than he ever did with every step he took.

 


	5. Scotland, another 6 months

Louis was freezing cold. He couldn’t feel the tip of his nose, his fingers, his arse. He wished he was back in the safety of his plane but ever since he was rescued by a group of Irish farmers, he couldn’t find the heart to stay behind and be away from human contact any longer than necessary.

The farmers consisted of three families that had joined up and banded together in their quest to keep each other safe from the zombies. The Horans were one of them and they pretty much adopted Louis, especially since Niall, their youngest son, seemed to have taken a shine to the Doncaster lad.

Niall was lovely, all careless, free-spirited and bright. He kept Louis company, made him laugh, brought him back out of his shell, which he had been forced to retreat to in his 6 months of isolation.

Louis didn’t talk much though, let Niall take up on the chatting instead, but he was glad he now has someone to talk to when he needed to, even if that someone wasn’t his beloved Harry.

3 months in the company of Niall and the boy could tell that when Louis’ eyes just glazed over and looked afar into the fields, it meant he had lost someone he’d missed dearly. The other two families aside from the Horans had lost someone too and Niall knew the look.

They didn’t stay in one place for too long, but went from one to another in search of food and safe haven. Since they’d found Louis in the forest, they’d been attacked twice by zombies and Louis was surprised by himself for putting up a good fight and killing any of those things that came for his flesh. He was sure that it was the adrenaline rush, but a part of him associated it with his survival instinct, of having once been forced to defend himself against his father’s ruthless fist. However, the fear he lived in currently brought that old fear back, the fear he thought he’d left behind.

He’d just woken up from a nightmare and his teeth were chattering as he bundled tighter into his sleeping bag. They were camping out somewhere in the middle of Scotland at that time, trying to head away from Europe since the entire continent apparently was the most zombie-infested area. Niall was sound asleep next to him, snoring with his mouth slightly opened. The boy looked so young and it reminded Louis of Harry. He just had to look away at the thought.

Even though it must be colder outside their shared tent, Louis quietly stepped outside. He put on a bumper jacket he had taken with him from the plane and a beanie of Harry’s before zipping the tent closed. It was a little after dawn, and his surroundings were endless green—all mist and fog, a different kind of infinite, a calm one.

In his nightmare, he remembered the week before Harry packed up his things to leave for good. They’d just been told that their flat in London was up and ready for them should they like to come see it before the start of term and check everything out. Louis was sitting up against the headboard and Harry was snogging him senseless.

Louis never knew love before Harry, nor was he intending on looking for something he already found. Harry wasn’t just a good kisser but he was also a good lover. No, he was a great lover, the best. He kissed Louis reverently, imprinting a message of “permanent’’ on his lips, exhaling into his mouth the feeling of being the only boy he’ll ever kiss this way. Louis trusted him so much to know this, to feel this deep in his bones. It took over his mind and his heart; the way Harry cradled his face, fingers lied gentle on the nape of his neck, lips sweet. When he pulled back slowly and Louis giggled at him for it, Harry looked at him with bright eyes, enthralled. The look on his face when he smiled though, eyes crinkling and lashes fluttering, was breathtaking. His cheeks were lit up and pulled into dimples, widening that beautiful toothy smile he had. It made Louis want to lay him flat across the bed, a hand low on his toned belly, and kiss him over and over again till his lips bruised.

But that all shattered when his step-dad busted them and Louis woke up, startled when loving eyes were replaced by menacing ones.

As he sat on the cold grass, he wondered how he could steer the Horans towards L.A. He wanted to see Harry so badly but he couldn’t do it on his own with no sense of direction and no one to come along in his journey.

Thinking about it made his heart ache and so he patted the inside pocket of his bumper jacket and pulled out the book Niall gave him. He’d always been fond of reading, spent days reading to Harry with his precious love resting his head on his lap. It was how they loved spending their quiet days—Louis reading him to sleep, then reading in silence when Harry had finally dozed off, warm on his skin, the weight of him is comforting and safe.

The book was a collection of quotes and poems. Louis hadn’t gotten around to reading it yet, just carrying it in his jacket. He sniffed in the cold air as he opened a random page. A couple of quotes were about friendship, some were funny jokes about friends turned to lovers or awkward first dates and Louis smiled at that. He turned another page and the quotes got a bit boring, talking about teamwork and old age. He flipped a couple of pages and the quotes this time were apparently song lyrics. Some were really good, and then it got better.

Thinking of lyrics meant thinking of Harry. He loved watching Harry wrote songs, jotting down a string of words that made no sense at first, but when Harry arranged them into verses and choruses then sung them, it lit Louis’ world like nothing else.

Harry wore his heart on his sleeves and its somehow astounding seeing his heart in his lyrics as well. He didn’t write silly love songs because—as the boy told Louis—“I don’t consider our love silly, Louis,’’ and he didn’t write obvious declaration of love because he said it made the song look so overdone.

But none of that mattered because he could sing anything and his voice would still make it sound beautiful. It was made even more perfect when his voice matched with those lovely words that made Louis want to crawl out of his skin from the Goosebumps prickling all over him.

One of the songs Harry wrote for Louis had him comparing Louis’ eyes to icebergs, all deep and strong, enough to sink mighty ships. Louis laughed at the Titanic analogy and begged Harry to change it but Harry wouldn’t yield. It was one of his favorite things to write about, he said of Louis’ eyes and Louis just kissed him senseless as hecannot come up with a better response.

A quote stood out among the lyrics and Shakespearean sonnets. Louis traced one cold finger as he followed the words. It was part of a poem called “The Good Morrow’’ by John Donne and it read:

_My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears,_  
_And true plain hearts do in the faces rest;_  
_Where can we find two better hemispheres_  
_Without sharp north, without declining west?_  
_Whatever dies, was not mix'd equally;_  
_If our two loves be one, or thou and I_  
_Love so alike that none can slacken, none can die._

It was so beautiful and Louis was never one to cry over books but he could cry over this because it hit home pretty hard. Yes, he thought of Harry all the time, yes, he worried about him that he couldn’t sleep sometimes and now, with this huge distance between them, he wondered how long they were going to live that way. Doubt started to creep in and he wondered if Harry had given up on him, if he’d seen his plane crash and now thought Louis was dead. Had he stopped thinking of him? Was he seeking comfort from someone who could give it to him, making himself vulnerable in order to meet his needs?

Louis started crying, holding the book to his chest and hugging it so tight because the thought is unbearable. He never said it enough, he started to think. He never showed Harry enough, how completely loved he was. He’d have never gone to L.A. if he’d known just how in love Louis was with him, how deeply-rooted were Louis’ affections, how much he truly cherished Harry. If only he’d shown him more how every second he’s awake, or dreaming, every moment he’s asleep, that all he ever thought of was him.

He didn’t want Harry to forget him, to forget what they shared because no, just no. That hurt so bad and he cannot take it, crying harder at the thought. He didn’t know he’s being loud until he felt a blanket being draped over him and when he raised his eyes, it’s to Niall’s own blue eyes, shining with sincere sympathy.

“I-I can’t live with myself, Ni. I’m so alone.’’ He croaked out, without filter on his thoughts. “I miss him—I want him to come back. Please, I want him to come back to me.” he begged Niall, forgetting that he hadn’t told the Mullingar lad anything about Harry, his precious love and his sweetheart. Niall seemed to know though, and he’s about to say something but Louis push on. He needed to get this out, because his chest hurt and he couldn’t contain it anymore.

“I miss him. I miss him every day. I’m weak and pathetic without him. I don’t want him to forget me; I don’t want him to think I’m gone. I need him, I can’t need anybody else the way I need him, he’s ruined me!’’ he sobbed harder. “I miss him so much I feel like I’m burning and I can’t breathe. I don’t want this to be the only thing I have left; I don’t want to only keep missing him. I want him now. I want him back with me. I want him to make me feel safe again. Please.” Niall hugged him tightly but said nothing, looking deflated, shedding tears of his own.

“We’ll go to America.’’ Niall said quietly when Louis’ tears had dried. Louis peeked out at him from inside the blanket, eyes bloodshot. “There are barricaded states there—Texas or Orlando. Maybe even Hollywood, who knows? But we’ll go there, no matter how long it takes and we’ll find your boy.’’

“What if…’’

“No, he can’t have forgotten you.’’ Niall interrupted. ‘’If he loves you just as strongly as you do, then surely he’s out there trying to find you too.’’

Louis was too tired to believe him. He wanted to and hoped Niall’s right. He had to be.

 


	6. Texas

Chapter 6: Texas

There are more people standing in line today, Harry thinks. It’s so crowded and Harry had woken up late so he isn’t the first to arrive at the Wall. It also seems that more photos have been released on the missing’s list, same with the arrival list since he came here three months ago. There are several people sitting on desks by the Wall, offering help to everyone asking, holding up papers, asking for new comers’ names and nationality, and pointing out directions. It was one of the first things they were asked when they made it to Texas. Three gruesome, weary months of travelling with nothing but fear on their shoulders and a map to trust, the road to Texas was certainly not easy.

They could’ve arrived earlier, much earlier but travelling at night brought terrors and way too many close-encounters. They tried travelling by car but the sound of the engine just attracted unnecessary attention. Once, Zayn was driving, and in a split second, the front of the truck they stole had bumped into what seemed like a body, making themwonder if they had killed someone. They were about to step out of the car to check but a woman with blood foaming at her mouth startedbanging her dislocated arm at the back window, startling them into a frenzy of “Hit the goddamn pedals, Zayn!’’ They knew they had bumped into one of the undead instead and had almost risked their lives to save someone that couldn’t be saved.

The hiding was getting harder, especially when they didn’t know the places they went to. It was much harder to sleep out in the open, to sleep with only one eye closed. Who knew it would be so intensely terrifying trying to sleep in the dark? Being constantly tired and tense made for wrong turns and set-backs, so they had to delay their supposed arrival to Texas for several times. But that wasn’t what pushed at Harry’s buttons, because with every zombie they faced, every ambush and attack they came up against, Harry had to swallow the bile in his throat at the thought of something so vicious getting Louis, turning his body into a mangled form by catching him off guard and attacking him in the dead of night.

Out here in the ‘wild west’—Harry is not really sure if that is the correct American term—he has never been more grateful for having Liam, Zayn and Ed with him. They know each other’s movements by now, memorized their every tension-filled expression when danger is near and they have to keep quiet.

Food is easy to find if one has the courage to enter convenience stores or supermarkets to scout for them. They take turns amongst themselves, two entering and two standing guard. Unfortunately, that’s also where the zombies await them, knowing where the livings need to feed so it’s never easy; entering a place you already know shelters the enemy you’ve been trying your very best to avoid.

Once, they’ve been holed up in a shelter Ed found. They stayed there for close to two weeks; just needing a break from travelling so much and the remote cabin out in the middle of nowhere was the perfect place for it. During their stay there, Harry’s thoughts crashed in a way that was almost brutal. In the silence of the sweltering heat and with nothing but wheat fields around them, Harry’s thoughts of Louis engulfed him in flames simply because of the lack of news of him. He realized that he could hardly remember the boy’s exact tone of voice when he laughed, could hardly remember the precise measure of Louis’ ankles or the way his thighs felt wrapped around his torso. He couldn’t remember the way his feet felt when he kissed them that one cold day that he found Louis with no socks and had insisted on putting them on himself, bowing to kiss his beautiful feet and again after he socketed them. He could barely remember how Louis’ hands felt when wrapped around his neck or the number of his eyelashes when he looked at him from so close.

In that cabin, Harry burned under the weight of the ashes that are his memories of Louis. Looking at the Wall with so many pictures, he wonders if he would even be able to spot his love’s name amongst the thousands the way he’d always spot Louis if he were a few feet away in a crowded room. He hates himself for forgetting what Louis smells like in the morning, hates that he doesn’t remember the feel of his small, dainty wrists when encased in his bigger hands, and hates that he doesn’t remember the exact shade of blue his eyes are when he opens them first thing in the morning.

He spends so much time daydreaming, sifting through memories and clinging unto them so hard lest he might forget those too. But there are days when the memories become so vague. He cries for trying to remember and coming up short; is sometimes confused at why he cannot remember a certain shirt Louis wore or how the boy smiled when he told him a particular joke. He heaves wretched sobs at the mere thought of forgetting the way Louis looked at him and it takes hours for him to calm down.

It’s dangerous, letting his mind drift and it had almost cost him his life a couple of times. He and Liam argued a lot about that, about Harry not being guarded enough, not paying enough attention. Every time, Zayn would take Liam’s side, Ed would take his and then when danger fell upon them, they’d put their differences aside and save each other, and all is forgotten.

When it’d be too quiet, Ed would pick up his ukulele and strum –he’d cried when Harry cracked a zombie’s head open using his precious guitar as a last weapon of resort but Harry had also saved his life so his tears didn’t last. The ukulele is all he has left from his horde of musical instruments and he carries it around the way Harry carries his crucifix necklace. Sometimes, when Harry pretends he’s sleeping, he’d hear Ed singing some new tune, humming out a few words, a few unfinished verses but they always sound beautiful. Even in their situation, music is always on his mind, same as Louis is always on Harry’s mind.

Sometimes, he’d hear Ed mumbling about a boy so deeply in love with the ocean he just wants to drown in it. He’d hear him humming some melancholy tune about lost photographs getting scraped up from the dust, finding their way back to their owners like a shiny bottle that drifts back to shore. It makes him want to smile and cry at the same time but mostly he just wants to punch Ed for drawing up parallels and metaphors to his life using music.

He appreciates what Ed’s doing though; God knows he cannot even begin to talk about the longing in his loins, the burn and ache he feels for wanting to touch Louis so badly he feels like scraping his own skin just so that he doesn’t have to feel like hugging air when he’s asleep or thinking Louis is tucked in the crook of his neck then realizing it’s just a pillow. When it gets too heavy to bear, he just spits it all out in a haze of anger at the unfairness of it all. It had ended most of his arguments with Liam because said lad just had to back away, knowing it’s a lost cause to argue with Harry over something he cannot control.

“I miss him, I miss him, I cannot concentrate without him.’’ He’d tell them when he’d make mistakes and Liam would immediately retreat, looking at him with pity and that is what he has become; he’d become pitiful, a wretched sight, unable to function, unable to breathe, unable to think of anyone else—he basically cannot live without Louis.

Sleep is hard, even now when they’re safe behind tall walls that protecting them from the outside world. He thinks of the encounters they’ve had with the undead; of all the times he could’ve died, of all the times he’d had to swing an axe or a bat or a fucking guitar to survive and all that gore still leads up to Louis. But even this time, he sees Louis in his dreams—helpless, bruised, and hurt—the way he’d found him multiple times when his step-dad would be too hard on him but instead of his step-dad, he’d see zombies and he’ll be standing there, watching it happen and unable to save Louis the same way he couldn’t save Nick.

Harry’d wake up violently from his nightmares, feeling like he’d been punched in the gut. His face would be drained of all color and he’d just sit there, wondering if it was real.

The first week after they’d arrived, he had a nightmare so intense; Liam thought he’d gone insane. He was thrashing around and it took Liam a full 10 minutes to wake him up. If only he knew what Harry saw, if only he knew that behind his lids, he saw bruises everywhere, covering Louis’ skin. He saw his hair matted with blood, skin covered in deep purple marks, fingerprints and scratches marring his arms and legs, scars upon his exposed neck. But worse, he saw his eyes closed and swollen, like he was dead.

“I get confused.’’ Harry said after he was done sobbing in Liam’s arms. “It gets all mixed up in my head; how he was when he still lived with his step-dad and how I think he is now, how he might be out there, hurt and defenseless from these creatures and I don’t know what to feel. I’m so scared for him.’’

Liam couldn’t bring him back to sleep.

 

The moment they’d arrive at the borders of Texas and allowed to enter behind the barricaded state, they were medically examined to test for infections. Having been found clean, they were asked for names and nationality then the people who’d let them through the barrier had run them through the list they had of missing people, just in case someone was looking for them. As it turns out, half the world has come to the US, seeking refuge in the few barricaded states left that were considered zombie-free.

Harry’s heart almost jolted when they started checking through the list of people from London, hoping against all hope that maybe Louis has made it after all and that he is within closer range, looking for Harry just as Harry was looking for him.

Turns out, only Liam has struck gold; his parents were able to get one of the earliest flights out of London and are currently sheltered in Pennsylvania. Liam had never been more ecstatic and more relieved. He asked to go there immediately but was denied as occupancy was already sky-rocketing and it really cannot be a priority until things settle down a bit. They did however notify their base there so as to take Liam off the missing people’s list that his parents had posted. Harry, Zayn and Liam went up on the arrival’s list and Harry had pulled up Louis’ picture from his wallet and askedfor his nameto be put in their database as well.

And so it went. Texas felt like starting over, especially when they’re provided a flat in a building occupied by fellow Englishmen. He and his three comrades got a room with two bunk beds, the other rooms already too occupied to provide for separate rooms. Food was free but rationed; all they had to do is file up at any convenience store they find and line up for their turn at what’s available. The state was damaged, barely hanging in there with no electricity, no Wi-Fi but at least no zombies either. They’re allowed to roam around with their flashlights and walkie-talkies so long as they didn’t leave the state. To the other three, it felt like safety. To Harry, it was like a cage.

He wanted to leave and head for Europe. He thought coming to Texas meant they could help him with that, help him find the safest route back to his motherland and look for the love of his life. But sadly, they told him Europe was completely overran by zombies and that aside from Frankfurt, Oslo and Ukraine, they hadn’t been able to make contact with any other place in Europe, let alone England and any of its cities. He demanded to go to either of the three, since its closer than where he was but they told him they cannot risk his life like that as most communication was still down and that safe routes weren’t exactly firmly established. Flights were preserved only for classified personnel and even that was not being conducted regularly as most airports have been wiped out. They advised him to be patient as many people keep turning up from Europe and maybe the people he is looking for would turn up too. It sounded like false hope and it made Harry feel trapped.

For the three months that followed their arrival, all Harry could do was to walk up to the great wall of the barricades and check the arrival’s list from England. He sees the same photos over and over again and when he wanders to the missing’s list, he sees Louis’ photo where he placed it at the bottom near the photo of some 6-year-old boy from Brighton. The photo of Louis haunts him as the pair of unmoving blue eyes stares back at him; unclaimed, still missing.

One particular person takes a shine to him during his stay. They meet almost at the exact same time whenever Harry goes to the Wall. She says she’s looking for her friends from Essex, and when she’s done talking about them, she’d always ask how he’s doing in her deep country slang, wondering if he’d slept alright. He found her too sweet, too polite and he couldn’t find it in him to ignore her.

She knows a lot about Texas as she is a native and so he thinks that perhaps befriending her couldn’t really amount to any harm. Her name is Taylor and she has long blonde hair and is as tall as him. She doesn’t have Louis’ soft brown hair though, doesn’t have his cheekbones, his eyelashes, or his blue eyes. He wonders if he’ll always look for Louis in every face he meets and comes up short.

After he’s done checking the wall of nameless faces twice, he goes back to his acclaimed bunk bed and takes a nap.

He dreams of stormy blue eyes, of a beautiful boy tucked under his arms, sipping tea at their favorite café. The scenery is beautiful but Harry feels on edge.

In a split second, he’s about to ask for Louis’ opinion on pastries and the next he is sat in a dark room, clear of furniture and windows. He looks for the beautiful boy in every corner and his eyes land on a form on the floor.

He sees Louis’ thin lips busted open, could see small scratches along his beautiful face. Around him are zombies, staring down at where he lay on the dirty floor with rubbish and blood, about to tear him apart. 

“Louis!!!!’’

“Shh, shh, wake up, Haz. Wake up.’’

He jolts awake to see Zayn holding him down. There’s screaming in his ears as he tries to squeeze the image of Louis’ lifeless form from his head.

“Where’s Lou? Where is he?’’ when he speaks, he realizes then that he is the one screaming, voice barely muffled into his tear-soaked pillow.

“Harry calm down, stop shouting. Just take a deep breathe, calm down.’’ Zayn urges, rubbing his back agitatedly, obviously unsure of what to do. Harry tries, he tries to keep it down but he’s freaking out. What if zombies are about to eat Louis? What if he’s out there, crippled from the plane crash and unable to run away from the undead?

“It’s not fair,’’ he keens into his pillow. “Why would someone hurt him? Why can’t I comfort him?" Harry knew he was losing his voice, could feel it in his throat, but he didn’t care.

He cries himself back to sleep.

Zayn wakes him up in time for dinner, not mentioning the whole thing. Harry’s eyes are sore but he’s hungry and tired so, he goes to the living room and joins the dozen other Englishmen and women as they claim their food. He greets them politely, trying not to be rude. It makes him feel a bit better when they share stories of back home, how much they miss the food and the beer and the football matches.

But then it reminds him of Louis so much and he finds himself unable to participate.

“Alright, let’s talk about something new,’’ a guy called Greg James says. He’s been very friendly towards Harry and his friends and he also seems like the ring leader of their flat. Every lunch he orchestrates these conversations as means to get to know each other with topics like who has dated the most, who has dated the least and so forth and it’s all fun and banter. Harry thinks Louis would’ve liked him, if they ever do get the chance to meet. Harry thinks it’s highly unlikely.

“For today’s topic, we will talk about what you and your loved-ones were supposed to do before this abysmal pisshole of an apocalypse landed at our feet and see who’s got the biggest sob story. The winner gets this,’’ he pauses for dramatic effect then reaches into his pocket and pulls out a Mars bar. “Tada, chocolate of the finest brands, dear Sir.’’

Harry and Zayn roll their eyes at each other and Ed just strums his ukulele. Liam eats in silence, keeping his face neutral. Each of them will have a turn sooner or later and Harry knows that neither he nor his friends want that but they do like the stories they hear so they stay put.

“I’ll start,’’ Greg says when the others just snicker and snort. He’s holding up a can of Pepsi like he’s brandishing a sword. “I’ve got a bird back home in London, her name’s Lacy. S’got the finest pair of legs ever and before all this happened I was going to ask her out on our very first official date. I still plan to do that should we reunite though. Bear that in mind, lads. Bear that in mind.’’

There’s humor in his voice but there is also a hint of depth and sadness that Harry can associate with. Greg just hides it better than him but whoever this Lacy girl is, she means something.

Some people cheer, others clap and laugh. Greg just drinks up as do some of his mates.

“You’ve set the bar quite high there, mate.’’ A guy whose name Harry doesn’t know says. “But I do find myself undeterred. Now, on the other hand, I have a boyfriend, thank you very much.’’

The girls and boys around Harry wolf-whistle but Harry just bristled at the word ‘boyfriend’. He really doesn’t need the reminder.

“His name’s Luke, he’s a music major, plays the guitar like bloody George Harrison and before all this happened, we were supposed to move in together.’’ The guy tuts self-deprecatingly, the girls coo at him fondly.

“Tough luck, Ash. I doubt the flat is still standing anyways so I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you.’’ Greg says and the guy Ash just laughs into his drink, the mirth in his eyes infused with a well-concealed sadness. More stories are then told, all with different kinds of sadness. Greg knows how to turn the mood around though, making sure to make silly comments at the end or crude innuendos in the middle to lighten up their drooping spirits. Their laughter is hardly mirthful but its laughter nonetheless. He’s good at turning the tables around, making sure everyone is able to laugh at the memories and not be strung up about it.

“How about you, curly?’’ Greg points at him eventually and before Harry realizes, there are eyes on him, waiting for his turn. He’s sat on the floor, his back to Ed’s legs, Zayn and Liam adjacent from him. He knows Ed is looking at him from behind because the sound of his fingers plucking strings has stopped. Zayn is looking at him carefully and so is Liam, probably wondering if he’ll snap.

“Me?’’ Harry asks dumbly, trying to buy time.

“Yes, you.’’ Greg says cheerfully. “C’mon, share us a story.’’

Harry looks around and while everyone seems busy with finishing up their plates, he knows they’re paying him enough attention and if he doesn’t say something soon, things will get awkward.

“My boyfriend, um.’’ He starts. “Well, that sounds weird but he’s more than that coz we’ve been together since high school but anyway,’’ he stops himself from rambling or else his mind would just drift away. “He was supposed to be here, back when I was in L.A., almost a year ago.’’ Harry says, his voice a bit rough. He cannot believe it’s close to a year since he’d last seen Louis. It makes tears sting the back of his eyes and he doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want to cry again.

“That’s it?’’ Greg says with one eyebrow raised, unaware of Harry’s struggle. “The bar’s been set quite high, lad and that’s all you’ve got to say? Don’t tell me this precious chocolate here,’’ he waves the Mars chocolate in the air like the prize that it is and Harry couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of it. “Doesn’t stir your ravenous appetite.’’

“Yeah well, I just ate so,’’ Harry hedges.

“Oh c’mon. Don’t dampen the mood. Finish your story, I’m sure it gets sadder than that.’’ Greg says, with only humor in his voice, no malice or intended heat. Harry doesn’t want to disappoint.

“Well, he was on his way. I booked him a ticket and all but,’’ Harry clears his voice. “His plane crashed and Heathrow blew up so I haven’t heard from him since.’’

Greg’s eyes become dim, realizing the whole topic has finally bordered on its serious tilt. Harry wished he knew how to lighten his storyso he doesn’t have to see the pity on every face around him. He knows they’ve all gone through similar losses, probably even worse but none of them gave too much away, opting for less gloomy stories just to play along with Greg and not hurt themselves in return. Harry just dove right into the flames though and now he wishes he could take it all back for the sad way Greg’s looking at him.

“What’s his name?’’ Ash asks. Harry swallows the lump in his throat. God, it’s just a name, he thinks. You can say it.

“You don’t have to if…’’ Ash tries to back out, noticing Harry’s hesitation.

“Louis,’’ Harry says quietly, unable to carry a normal tone in his voice. “His name’s Louis.’’

“Well, gentlemen, ladies, let’s raise our glasses, shall we?’’ Greg says, pointing his Pepsi can in the air. The rest follow suit. Harry smiles half-heartedly but he raises his glass of orange juice in the air as well. In a room lit up by candles and flashlights, it almost feels like they’re having a eulogy session not dinner.

“Let’s make a toast for all our dear Englishmen out there, fighting for their lives while we wallow away in the sweltering heat of Texas.’’ Some snort but its light and fond, knowing that Greg is only trying to lighten up the mood with his grand gesture. “While our loved ones remain missing between the living and the dead, let us wish them a safe journey and hope they find their way back to us. If not, may they find a gentle, loving pair of arms to run to, be it here on Earth or some heavenly place.’’ Greg says and it’s all very theatrical the way he nods solemnly to Harry, then tips his drink back and finishes his Pepsi.

Everyone toasts back and drink. Harry can barely swallow because for all of Greg’s speech, he feels heavy. He’s snapped out of it when Greg throws the Mars bar in his lap and winks kindly. Harry is quite sure Louis would’ve really liked him.

 


	7. Orlando, a year later

Louis is so tired of butchering people. Logically, he knows there are trillions and billions of people in the world and his head count hasn’t really reached the hundreds, but to have to cut so many limbs and heads off almost every day is getting unbearable.

He hates that he’s used to it, hates that he finds himself tired for doing it for so long and hates how he has to hide away in some shed to survive only to emerge and fight them later when it’s time to move.

The other families have unfortunately not been as lucky as the Horans. Now, it’s only Niall and his family plus himself who have made it to Orlando, a year after trekking from one continent to another.

He doesn’t know how he’s been able to survive, not even sure if he’s the same person as he was a year ago back in Scotland. All he knows is that Harry is the one part of him that is present and untouched in his heart, tucked away under his skin, buried so deep that he has to peel so many layers off and peek thoroughly into his ribcage to make sure the only boy he’s ever loved is still there, in the home he’s made for himself in Louis’ heart.

Niall calls him “Louis the Loony butcher” and it’s not a pleasant title at all. First of all, his wrists are too thin to wield a butcher knife and his weapon of choice is actually an axe considering he has the biceps for its weight so really, Niall’s title for him is uncalled for.

But then again, he can take shit from anyone else but Niall because this boy has saved his life so many times he cannot even count. He’s also Louis’ life support on nights he gets tormented by festering dreams of unexpected fists and loving arms hidden in the shadows of his never-ending streams of half-fragmented memories.

Niall’s a constant now; when he feels his wanderings are pointless and that he should just spread out on the empty streets and die, Niall pulls him back on his feet and pushes him to march forward. He’s his counter current and he stops Louis from fighting the monsters in his head alone as well as the monsters running behind them in broad daylight. Niall calls them “the dream team” and“the zombie busters”. He makes Louis laugh, stopping him from floating like a helium balloon and going against gravity.

They’d arrived in America in a mess of sweltering heat and every state they’d been to before reaching North Carolina had been so infested that sometimes they barely had any sleep. Bobby, Niall’s father, is responsible for scouting shelter while Greg, Niall’s older brother, is responsible for the food and together they make a good team. Niall’s Cousin Josh as well as Niall and Louis are the ones young enough to do all the fighting, the guarding and making sure they don’t get eaten by zombies in their sleep so there’s been a lot of sweating, a lot of sleepless nights and ravishing food. Honestly, Louis believes it’s the Irish charm and bloody luck that has gotten them so far.

A month after leaving North Carolina, they decided to try going for the city again and scout around for the barricaded states. They’d wandered a bit too off-track and found themselves somewhere in an unknown place, lost in some highway. That’s when Josh got killed when a herd of zombies ambushed them. It was horrible; he and Niall were really close and they had to move away again and get back to the country.

After trekking for so long and fighting too hard a couple months after, they found themselves on open grounds, on fields made of wheat, made of gold. Niall loved it because it was close to home a little bit. Sure it was all sunlight golden and not foggy and green but the feel of nature and fresh air, regardless of the heat, was perfect.

They’d stayed in the trees this time—big, grand trees that were so old and tall. They had these bulky branches that they were able to use as makeshift beds. Louis and Niall were currently back-to-back on some higher branches than that of Bobby’s and Greg’s and they were supposed to be asleep but instead, they were having their usual talks.

Louis looked up at the moon and, like every night, he wondered if Harry was doing the same. He’d forgotten what it was like to be committed to just one place, to be tied down to just one person, a loved one he’d lost, two years ago (almost a life time ago). Remembering their home felt like remembering a dream; it is something so blurry and sketchy. It barely felt concrete anymore, like it had never really existed.

“Are you never going to tell me about him?” Niall asked. For the past year, whenever they have their late night conversations, at some point, he always finds a way to steer Harry in, like he knows Louis wants to talk about him but needs coaxing to be able to do it. It doesn’t always work and Louis barely shares tidbits and little throw-ins here and there but Niall’s undeterred. Maybe he’s getting tired of hearing his own voice, Louis thought. He looked up at the ebony sky, drenched in a little prickling of stars with a dying moon.

Louis sighed. “I’ve forgotten him.”

“No, you haven’t.” Niall was quick to say. And he was right. When Louis thinks about it, now that he’s in some safe house in Orlando, he knows that what he said back then was a blatant lie.

Louis remembers that night so well because they’d barely had a rest and he’d barely gotten any time to think of Harry let alone day dream of him so up in those trees, sharing beautiful country air, his mind easily found Harry, like he’d just been resting in the recesses of his mind, waiting for Louis to remember him.

Sitting among the trees reminded Louis of a particular memory. They’d sat at a tress house once, he and Harry, back in high school. It was during Zayn’s birthday party and they had decided to escape to his sisters’ tree house in Malik’s back yard. They’d stared at the moon and shared stories and grapefruit juice, giggling like a couple of school girls. Louis doesn’t remember what exactly he and Harry had talked about but he can imagine the scene.

Louis would have his legs dangling over the opening of the tree house, swinging his legs back and forth and Harry would be squeezed right next to him, arm over his shoulders. He’d be staring while reciting anecdotes, moving his hand around, his slender fingers almost covering his juice box, sleeves folded at the wrist, cotton shirt moving with him. He’d stare at Louis when the boy would laugh, eyes on his lips, staring and listening so intently, making no sound to disrupt it.

““You’re beautiful,’’ Louis would tell him.

““You’re lovely when you laugh.’’ Harry would reply. He always complemented Louis, never receiving one without giving back. They’d be touching, caressing, all throughout the night, as if they couldn’t get enough of each other, as if they were made up of gluey skin and grapefruit-tasting lips and nothing else. Music would be playing from inside the house where the party would still be taking place, joining the night air and setting the mood, as if it’s just for them.

Looking back at the moon with Niall brought him back to that night because it’s the same moon staring back at him, the same moon that had stared back at him and Harry when they were at the tree house, so why in God’s name is Harry not with him?

He wondered, with his back against the hard tree if the Harry Louis kissed that night would still be the Harry he’d one day hope to see again.

Now, they’re in Orlando, in a barricaded state and who knew Louis would be in the roof of a safe house handed to them for free among many other wanderers, staring up at the same moon with Niall asking the same question as he did that night.

“What makes you so sure I haven’t?’’ he asks and it’s different than what he said back then. Well, different in a way that back then, he just sighed and told Niall to go to sleep.

“Because we’re in Orlando and our names are in the database and your eyes are glazing over which means you know how close you are to him now, so yes, I know you haven’t forgotten him.’’ Niall answers. He’s drinking beer, his elbow stable on the concrete as they stare out at the city before them. Who knew Orlando was beautiful at night?

“What was your question again?’’ Louis hedges because damn the Irishman for being so observant when halfway drunk. Or not exactly halfway considering how good the lad was holding his liquor; again it’s the Irish charm.

Niall finishes his beer then opens another one, his fourth. Louis is not even halfway with his first. Niall said they ought to celebrate not having to fight zombies anymore and he’s so sure of it, even after losing the Gallaghers and the Mc Collins, even after losing his dear Josh, so sure after all their fighting and wandering, that Louis couldn’t begrudge him his happiness.

“My question was, are you going to talk about him or not?’’ Niall presses.

“I talk about him enough.’’

“Nope, you tell me stupid things, like his favorite juice or favorite color. I want to know the essentials.’’

“Like what exactly?” Louis asks.

“Tell me what he was like, as a person.”

“You mean describe his features and such?’’

“You’re such a bloody idiot,’’ Niall snaps but with fond. “I mean his characteristics as a person, dumbwit.’’

Louis sighs. Niall knows the essentials and yet he’s still asking. He knows that Harry is Louis’ everything, that Harry has his mind, body and soul, that Harry is the boy he cannot let go of even after two bloody years of zero contact, of wondering if he’s still alive out there and loving him regardless.

Maybe he’s asking because Louis hasn’t been subtle, hasn’t hidden how tangible his love for Harry is. Josh, bless his soul, who is actually really nice and funny, used to look at Louis with desire and intent. His brushes of skin made Louis cringe and his complements made Louis blush and turn away. Louis is not happy he’s dead but he’s glad the flirting and side-way glances had stopped.

He didn’t know how to tell Josh, let alone Niall how Harry was his perfect, incredible boyfriend who fought tooth and nail against his step-father, who showered him with endless affection. Niall has absolutely no clue about that, so Louis knows what he’s asking.

“Fine,” Louis says as he finishes his beer, opens another one and finishes it in one go before popping open a third. He can talk about his boy if he’s not so sober; can talk about him without crying on Niall’s shoulder about missing the boy. He just needs the alcohol to be brave enough to realize that he still calls Harry his boy.

“He was…he was my sweetheart. He defined precious love in the way he was always so sweet to me. And gentle, like a kindred spirit. And he always came through for me, you know? He never let me down. He was good at everything; good at bad jokes, good in heart, and good to me.”

Niall slows down his drinking; his beer bottle not so tilted down his throat anymore but merely suspended in the air between his lips before he finishes his fill, then slowly, he put the bottle down. He looks at Louis softly, like he’s surprised that Louis is actually openingup in front of him, after a year of knowing each other, a year of having each other’s back, a year of friendship based on more than simply survival but also camaraderie. Louis realizes he can trust Niall with the contents of his heart just as he trusts him completely with his life, so Louis doesn’t stop.

“He likes wearing blazers on top of plain white shirts and he used to love wearing white converse before he shifted to leather boots when we graduated. He likes tattoos, lots of them but not in a graphic, artistic way but in a _‘_ _I’m a child that likes to doodle_ _’_ type of way.’’ He chuckles, unaware. “And he likes it when I touch his tats. I like to do that because I love his skin, he’s like, so, so soft,’’ he doesn’t realize he sounds like purring when he says this, “His hair is just as soft too, softer than pillows and he always smells so good, like baby shampoo or something. I love his hair so much; I touched it all the time, because it was all curls and ringlets and long when stretched. It felt just as sweet as his smell, as his voice, as his…everything.” He mumbled off.

There are so many images running through his head and, this time, they’re not just untouchable figments. No, this time they’re accompanied with the feel of fluttering eyelashes between silky sheets, of tracing the bridge of a perfect nose, and of fingers dancing along collarbones. They’re accompanied by sounds of a guitar pick plucking through old strings, of words being sung, written just for him, only to him.

“So I can presume he was just as fucking sweet in bed, ay?” Niall wiggles his eyebrows.

Louis snorts, rolling his eyes at this Irishman.

“He bloody was and you ought to be jealous that I got some.”

Niall laughs loudlywith his mouth opened wide, his laugh long and free.

“Mate, you _got_ some, as in past tense. As a matter of fact, you haven’t gotten laid in two bloody years, whereas I slept with sweet Chelsea before her head got knocked off a year ago, bless her soul.’’ Niall shakes his head and, till this day, Louis cannot fathom how he can say a sentence like that and be completely complacent.

Chelsea was a Gallagher and she was sweet, Louis would give Niall that but she was so useless in fighting zombies, she got killed a week after she and Niall slept together. Niall felt bad, cried his bloody eyes off but he got over it when Chelsea’s big family started falling like flies. Louis guesses it’s not so much Niall’s carefree attitude but more of the fact that butchering limbs have thickened his skin.

“You sure have a way with words, Nialler.’’ Louis says but he does give the boy a glance to see if he’s really okay or if what he said was part of his thick skin façade. Niall shrugs and. Louis cannot help but see it as a Harry shrug because it is; Harry used to shrug all the time when Louis would tell him his joke was not so funny, or that his penis jokes were the worst. He never took Louis’ insults seriously (Not that Louis has ever insulted him seriously), same way that Niall doesn’t take life and death matters as seriously as he should.

Louis sometimes had to look away, when the similarities became so striking. He does it now and Niall notices. He had probably noticed before, but Louis is an open book tonight.

“You do that a lot.’’ He says.

“What?’’ Louis is looking away and he feels like a deer caught in the headlights.

“I don’t know, you get this funny look in your eyes like I’ve done something wrong and suddenly you can’t even look at me. Do I look like him or something?’’

“No, his eyes are green, yours are blue.’’

“Again with the fun facts? I thought we were getting along here.’’ Niall whines but again, it’s fond, always fond.

“Yeah, well. Story time is over, so…’’

“You’re wounding me and you know it,” Niall points out, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

“Don’t really give a fuck.”

“Geez Lou, here I was offering you beer and you just go ahead and treat me like this? Fucking tosser.”

Louis laughs, taking a gulp of his beer just to be spiteful.

They don’t do anymore reminiscing that night and Louis thinks the beer has made him light enough to be able to have a good night sleep, a dreamless sleep.

Niall is still very much sober but they do agree to go to bed and call it a night.

* * *

Louis is having a nightmare. Niall can hear him tossing and turning in the bunk bed under his own. It's not even two hours before when they decided to call it a night so it’s really dark outside, the moon has gone to sleep too.

Niall is not annoyed; Louis having nightmares is quite normal routine these days but the thing is, he’d thought it would stop now that they’re safe, in America, closer to his Harry than he ever was before. He thought that after Louis had finally opened up, that he would be relaxed, light enough to have a dreamless sleep.

"Louis," he says sleepily, as he jumps off his bunk and lands on unsettled feet on the carpeted floor. He’s not exactly hung over but he has been drinking. Sure, he doesn’t get drunk on beers but they usually do hit him later when he’s on the cusp of sleep, making him more gravitated to his bed.

He peers down at Louis’ bunk and sees that Louis is on his back, the blankets kicked to the end of the bed. His shirt is bunched up, exposing a sweaty layer of skin. His eyebrows are drawn together tightly and his mouth is set in a deep frown, like he’s about to cry for help or yell obscenities.

Getting on his knees, he puts a hand on Louis’ forehead and curses. Louis’ forehead is sweaty, his fringe drenched where Niall’s touched. Niall pulls his hand back when Louis starts tosses his head away abruptly, making choked, unhappy noises. Like the concerned friend that he is, Niall goes about his duty to wake Louis up, the way he has so many times before.

He caresses Louis’ soaked crown of head. "Lou, wake up, mate."

Louis twists around, turning his back on Niall. Again, this is nothing new. Niall sighs, gets up and sits on the edge of the bed. He reaches for Louis’ shoulder and pulls him back on his back. His touch drags a loud, sharp sound from Louis’ throat.

“Louis, c’mon now, just wake up.’’ Niall urges. Louis tosses his head back making that damn dying-like sound again, like he’s wounded physically and is groaning from the pain. Niall senses he’s at the cusp of a scream when Louis clenches his eyes shut harder, drawing tears. This is usually the part where Niall starts to freak out because if Louis starts crying, it will take longer for him to go back to sleep.

"Louis!"

Louis wakes with a strangled gasp, sliding quickly up the headboard until his back hits the wood, like he’s trying to escape; his hand up in defense from whatever dream monster might be chasing him into reality.

“Calm down, Lou. Calm down, it’s just me, alright?’’ Niall says carefully. Louis looks at him wildly but he puts his hand down, a bit shaken, hands forming fists of the sheets under him. He doesn’t push Niall away when the lad reaches over and pushes sweat-damp hair off Louis's skin, exposing the sheen of sweat on his forehead.

"I thought you’d be over this." Niall mumbles, almost to himself.

Louis is breathing hard, can barely restrain himself from taking deep, loud breaths in then exhaling them. His chest is heaving and he’s still holding himself taut like he’s about to fight. Niall keeps caressing his hair, massaging his scalp until Louis finally calms down and closes his eyes. He scoots over and it’s all that Niall needs before he sits back against the headboard and draws Louis into his arms.

“I had a strange dream tonight. A different one.’’ Louis says.

He looks so vulnerable, one hand clutching at Niall’s shirt on his breastbone, face tucked into Niall’s shoulder, head under his chin. Niall holds his wrist, thumb caressing the back of his hand, anchoring him.

“Yeah?’’

“I dreamt of meeting him. Here, in the states but not here in Orlando, like…’’ Louis can barely breathe, rushing over his words.

“Calm down, mate. Take it slow.’’ Niall says, brushing a hand up and down Louis’ arm before setting back on his wrist. Louis nods and takes a couple more gulps of air.

“I met him. Niall, I saw him.’’ Louis urges.

“In your dream?’’

“No, I…yeah, in my dream but it was so real. In all the times I dreamt of him, but I’ve never dreamt of meeting him again, you know?’’

Okay, this is a surprise. All this time, he’d presumed Louis’ dreams consisted of meeting Harry and not finding what he expects, of seeing Harry’s dead body or something gruesome like that.

“Wait, like, ever?’’

“No, I usually like, they’re not so much as dreams as they are memories and I wake up missing him so much or like…but tonight was different. I saw him.’’ Louis repeats.

“You saw him?’’

“Yes and God he looked so edible.’’ Louis chuckles wetly, tiredly and Niall humors him by laughing too, holding Louis tighter.

“Okay, no need to go there, mate.’’

“No, I don’t know why I said that, it’s just. Maybe because I was drinking grapefruit juice or something, like in my dream I think it was grapefruit.’’

“Okay,’’ Niall drawls. He’s confused as fuck.

“And I was walking down that road in the country side, you remember, when we slept in the trees?’’ Niall nods above him. “And I was drinking grapefruit juice and then I just saw him, down the road, looking at me. He looked so tired, Nialler. Or I was so tired because the heat was killing me but I didn’t care; I just started running and this time, his face didn’t zoom away, no, he starts running too, towards me. He was there, Niall.’’ Louis urges again, like he wants Niall to believe him so badly and tell him his dream was real. “And I could hear him, telling me to hurry up, to run faster. He kept telling me to hurry up.’’

Niall hugs him tighter because Louis is getting worked up and he doesn’t want him to cry.

“Yeah, yeah that sounds sweet. Sounds like he misses you.’’

“He does. I think he does. It’s been so long since I’ve felt like this, like he’s just as lost without me out there like I am. I think we’re gonna meet soon, Niall.’’ Louis looks up at him, eyes full of something Niall had never seen before; eyes full of hope.

“I think he’s looking for me, I think he knows I’m near. I think he’s going to find me and…’’

“Hey, hey let’s not get ahead of ourselves, yeah?’’ Niall interrupts with a nervous chuckle. This is the first time he’s heard Louis say stuff like that, words full of hope and optimism when he used to be so hopeless and desperate. It’s dangerous because he doesn’t want Louis to put himself so high up there only to be pushed down later.

“He’s coming to find me. I know it, I’m sure of it.’’ Louis insists, sliding down till his head is on Niall’s stomach. “I’m sure of it.’’

Niall caresses his hair and says nothing, willing Louis to go back to sleep. For the first time since he’d befriended the lad, he sees Louis’ eyes close and the boy drifts off with a smile on his face.


	8. Destination Unknown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1-so this is the final chapter and there are a couple of fics that inspired it so i wanna give credit where its due. the first fic is ''And So Far So Good'' by checkthemargins and the second is ''And I’ll Burn The World For You'' by imaginelarry. I truly recommend these two fics, they're absolutely amazing.  
> 2-also, there's a quote in the end that i read from a beautiful fic called ''marking up the atmosphere'' by acidveins which was also such an amazing inspiration and a good read. i recommend ya'll to give it ur time of day, its so worth it.  
> 3-a massive thanx to susannachen for being an amazing editor.   
> 4-hope the prompter likes my work. 8 chapters means i got a little carried away hahahabut i hope u dont mind.  
> And yeah, hope u all enjoy this :D

 

Harry is a killing machine. Harry is the Woody Harrelson of his own zombie apocalypse. Harry is fighting the hell out of his grief.

Texas had announced that a vaccine has finally been discovered and in order to cure the zombies, they need to get out of their hiding place behind the barriers and capture them, bring them in and rid the virus off them. Volunteers had been asked to join the cause and if Harry was ever going to get out of Texas and find Louis, then this was his calling. He was one of the first to sign up.

“You’re sure about this?’’ Ashton had asked. They’d grown quite close since that night a year ago and though he’d been mostly a silent companion, he was a companion nonetheless.

There are days when Ash would talk about Luke and it helps sometimes because it allows him to talk about Louis in return. Around Liam, Zayn and Ed, Harry finds it hard to talk about his broken heart, thinking maybe they’re sick of hearing him whining about him missing Louis. With Ash, there’s a mutual understanding, an acceptance that they’ll never be over their losses and that it’s okay.

“I’m sure. I want some peace of mind, you know?’’ He’d replied when he packed up all little things he had. He wants to see the site of the plane crash, prove to himself that his loss is real. Till then, he’d accepted the possibility that he may never get to see Louis again and for some reason, that acceptance is better than living in turmoil and denial.

Liam would’ve stopped him if he were around but six months ago; he and Zayn had finally been allowed passage to Pennsylvania. With communications still faulty, Harry has no idea if they made it safely or not.

Ed is apprehensive about the decision but he doesn’t say anything. Everybody else wishes him luck, tell him what he’s doing is brave. James says they’re going to be home soon anyway if the vaccine does work and well, Harry thinks that if his assistance can bring them close to their beloved London, then so be it.

Taylor is not all too happy about it, says she fears for him and wishes he would leave the heavy work to other big boys. But then again, she doesn’t know anything about Louis and why Harry needs to find a means to keep his mind off his never ending grief.

He’d finally accepted the very real possibility that Louis is not going to come back into his life –he couldn’t face that reality before, always feared finding Louis in pain instead, and needing him. He knows that the chance of Louis surviving the place crash had always been slim and even if he did, there was no way he could have escaped unharmed, let alone find a means to America with Europe wrought in darkness. All those possibilities made him finally realize that it was over, from the moment that plane crashed. That was when he should have stopped hoping.

That’s not to say he’d given up on Louis, no, he will still cross oceans for him, for the memory of him. But more precisely, he’d given up on the idea of ever finding love again. He’s more like a widower, except that he is not keen to re-marry or settle down with anyone else. Louis will always be the number one in his heart, gone or not, alive or not. He’d just chosen to finally accept that perhaps he is more gone than he is alive, simple as that. He’d chosen to finally mourn his loss and strive off his memories instead of being bitter about them.

After he’d said his goodbyes, he’d picked up Louis’ photo from the missing people’s list and joined the other group of men who had volunteered for the vaccination mission as well. He is by far the youngest but a group of Irish and Scotsmen take him under their wing. They’re all beefy and meaty armed, and muscled like bouncers. One of them, a man called Paul Higgins, tried to make him change his mind but Harry just laughed it off, said he was looking for some adventure. No one takes him seriously, letting him off the hook.

It’s a scary thing being out in the wild again, jumping from one place to another as they placed baits for the undead and rounded as much of them up for vaccination. Some were too sick, too demented with the virus in their brain that the doctor accompanying them sadly found no choice but to have them taken down. It’s not an easy mission but Harry feels a sense of purpose and it lessens the lovelessness in his heart bit by bit.

Aside from Paul, he befriends a couple of other guys called Cal and Phil. Together they form a good team even though Harry gets the feeling that the other three put more effort into protecting him than the mission itself. Harry likes the idea of these three being guardian angels sent to him from Louis but that thought is too morose for his liking.

“I don’t think you’re meant to die out here,’’ Paul says one day when they’re sitting around a camp fire. It’s dark and they will attract certain ‘people’ but according to their mission, that’s exactly what they ought to do. Their handlers are three military men sitting around another campfire near them, discussing further plans and destinations with their on-field doctor, a man called Tom. Harry diverts his attention from them and looks at Paul. They were talking about their reasons for volunteering but Harry had tuned out the conversation until now.

“I’m not?’’ Harry says with faux surprise.

“I agree,’’ Cal puts in, fiddling with his camera. He used to be a photographer for some band back in London before he took up a gig in L.A. for playboy magazine. He takes great scenery pictures as well. “I think you’re too young to die with your whole life ahead of ya.’’

“What brought this up?’’ Harry asks with a chuckle, although he fears he already knows the answer.

“Harry, you’re like a loony out there, I’m surprised they haven’t sent you back.’’ Phil says, focused on burning his marshmallow. “Cut it back a little, yeah?’’

Well. Harry didn’t think they’d noticed, honestly. He thought they were all giving their all into this mission as well, pouring their heart and soul into it. It feels great, being reckless, fighting like there’s no tomorrow, like he’s got nothing to lose. That is true. Louis is gone. He’s got nothing to lose. Nothing.

“I don’t know; it’s a good adrenaline rush, going all loony out here. I like it.’’ Harry shrugs.

“You know, you’re like that Bella girl in that vampire movie.’’ Cal says, huffing at his camera. “Turning into some adrenaline junkie just to feel numb or something.’’ He puts the camera down and looks at Harry in the eye. “It’s not good, kid. You need to take a step back.’’

It goes without saying what Cal is trying to say, that just because Louis is gone doesn’t mean he should be too. But the thing is, he’d always been a little too gone for Louis and now that he’s settled with the thought of accepting his overwhelming loss, the feeling of being gone too has settled in him as well. Harry swallows then shifts his gaze to the flames. The parallel Cal had drawn is a bit close to heart but then again.

“Comparing my life to a vampire movie is not really your strongest point there, Cal.’’ Harry points out. “Not to mention how surprised I’m to know that you’ve actually watched those Twilight movies, I mean, how old are you?’’

It draws a chuckle from the beefy men around him but it also means they’re letting the topic slide. It’s not the first time they’ve brought up Harry’s reckless behavior and Harry knows it won’t be their last. He’s cool with it, as long as they back off as soon as they start which they always do.

He sleeps that night with a nagging in his chest, telling him that somehow, regardless of his acceptance of the loss in his heart, his life is not over. It’s far from it.

 

They roam so many places and the vaccine seems to work. Still, they encounter a lot of lost causes that it keeps them up on their feet, their nerves on edge from the possibility of being sprung unaware. He doesn’t know where he is, doesn’t bother to ask. He tries to take life one minute at a time for the sake of the concern of the other three men he dubs as his bodyguards—they’re so fiercely protective of him, it’s insane—but it’s a faulty image, like a burnt photograph, taking away the good parts of him in the form of ash. Every good thing he sees makes him wish Louis were next to him, and he wonders if this is how his life is going to be from now, living on the edge with half a heart.

He tries to enjoy life though, accept his lot regardless. Cal takes loads of photographs of him and the lads with beautiful scenery behind them. For three men who had never been out of London before, getting the chance to somewhat explore America is quite life-changing. Harry feels like he’s on a road-trip with them and not on some voluntary mission.

He’s not aware that it’s almost close to a year since he left Texas when they arrive at another state for updates. Harry isn’t keen on the idea of settling down; he wants to keep on moving. He wants their mission to take them to Europe as they promised him it would so he’s relieved when they say they’re only staying temporarily before they claim a new mission. They’re put in a nice warm villa by the beach with many tall trees surrounding them and it’s nice and refreshing for a change.

A week passes but still no word on going out again. Harry spends his time swimming, walking on the sand at night, staring up at the moon like a fucking cliché, wondering where his life is heading to, and wondering what Louis would want him to do so he could just do it.

One day, he wakes up to quite a commotion. It doesn’t take long for him to realize that communication is finally working and that people are rejoicing the return of electricity and network. Harry smiles; it won’t be long now before they can return to London, maybe just another year or so, and the thought that he’d somewhat helped, even only a little, in contributing to the happiness of others, brings about a good, warm feeling in his chest. He could only wish Louis was by his side to see the day.

Not keen on interacting or celebrating just yet, he decides to take a walk by the beach. Cal catches him on his way though. They’d invited the other volunteers over from the nearby villas where they were placed and there are drinks all around but Cal is not drunk, not yet at least.

“He would’ve been proud of you, you know.’’ He tells him as Harry leaves his flip flops by the front door. When he straightens up, he notices Cal’s soft eyes on him. “Wherever he is.’’

Harry swallows. Even thought they had advised him so many times about being too reckless, they somehow know and understand his reasons, know that Louis is still and always will be the driving force behind everything he does. They also know how much he is not over it, no matter what he claims. They had never asked him to move on or to even try to get over it, like somehow they know what little it can do, how Louis still affects him. And honestly, even if they tried, it’s pointless. Harry carries his heart on his sleeve just as much as he carries his grief around. Many times, the other three would catch him just holding Louis’ photo, clutching at it when he’s asleep or staring at it for hours, like Louis is the Annie to his Finnick Odair. It makes him smile; Louis had always had an affinity for comparing his life to the silver screen and now he’s doing it too. Just the thought itself warms Harry’s heart. Having Cal say he knows that Louis would have been proud of him warms it even more.

“You think so?’’ Harry says amiably. Someone has turned up the music from the now-working radio and it brings about yells of sheer joy. Harry wants to grin, he feels so elated and good, the joyous feeling around him contagious and light.

“I know so,’’ Cal says before he pats him on the back. “Good things are to come, young Harold. I assure you of that.’’

Harry chuckles and pushes him away playfully.

“Go snap some shots or something.’’ Harry says. Cal laughs before he reaches for a red cup off the coffee table and raises it to Harry’s direction.

“Planning on it.’’ Cal says with a wink. Harry laughs before Cal disappears into the crowd. He feels lighter somehow, regardless of the dull ache in his chest. Shaking his head, he reaches for a red cup and steps into the beach.

It’s a fruity drink, whatever’s in the red cup and its okay; he wasn’t really aiming for something alcoholic and strong so, he sips at it while walking barefoot on the sand, with salty wind rippling through his hair. He’d let it grow longer, tipping off his shoulder in long locks, that sometimes he has to tie it up. He wonders what Louis thinks of the new look, thinks maybe he’ll like it. He breaths out, knowing that Louis will probably like it, because Louis always likes running his hand through his curls, and Harry likes handing him anything that makes him happy, anything to make him feel good. Of all the things to miss, he never thought he’d miss the boy’s soft fingers running lines through his scalp, purring him to calmness. God, he misses Louis.

He shakes his head and thinks about what Cal said. Somehow, the idea of good things to come brings about his wonderment—where forth he ought to go after the world tilts back to its human-balanced axis? He’s not really warming up to the idea of going back to London, and this is the first thing that strikes him. He will go to Ireland first, where the plane had crashed but after that, he doesn’t know where he’ll go. He misses home, yes, he misses London’s air, London’s café’s and all those night clubs there, but the idea of going back to his flat, _their_ flat and living alone, pushes the thought of warmness away. It strikes him though. What should he expect to see when he walks through the door to their flat, two years and a half since he’d last been? He wonders if he’ll be greeted by over-sized jumpers strewn across the back of their old battered couch, or the sight of Vans scattered next to his old McQueen boots. He wonders if the scent of Tom Ford, Louis’ favorite cologne will hit him when he enters their room. He wonders if he’ll breathe in the ghost of him as soon as he walks through the door. And then he shivers, waves hitting his feet and he pretends the goosebumps breaking out across his skin is from the semi-cool water and not from the longing.

There are sunken footsteps across the path he’s walking on, but there’s no one around except for a couple of lads in the far distance. He thinks maybe it’s their footsteps and he sets one foot after another, following the disappearing path of feet across the sand, planting his own big feet before the water washes over his imprints too, molding the two together.

As always, Louis is on his mind, like the big, blue ocean is—always staring at him in the face. Waves upon waves, they’re crashing him with memories, with warm tingly ones like the white foams skirting across his feet and strong, brave ones like the waves breaking through the rocks further ahead.

For the first time in such a long time, he feels good about something, but he’s not sure what it is. He thinks maybe that’s the nagging feeling accompanying his mood. The idea of finding happiness and contentment in a future without Louis disturbs him somehow. He’d accepted his loss, yes, and doesn’t mind living the rest of his life alone so the thought of moving on seems like a means to forget Louis on purpose and he’s not sure he wants that.

On the other hand, maybe he’s confused because he feels like even though he’s accepted Louis’ fixture to be gone forever, that ‘’good things are to come’’ that Cal talked about is somehow, even now, related to Louis still. It’s like a gut feeling, telling him that Louis is still going to be a part of his future, part of those good things coming his way just as he is an everlasting presence in Harry’s mind.

Harry thinks maybe that’s a sign. Maybe he’ll start writing songs again. Songs about sharp blue eyes, and a witty sense of humor and maybe that’s how Louis will accompany him in the future.

He’s starting to think about going back to L.A. as his next destination after Ireland, to see if he could salvage his music career when his eyes catch sight of the two lads walking back towards him along the shoreline in the far distance. They haven’t seen him yet, deep into conversation and Harry wonders if they’re locals and maybe he can ask them what state he’s in because he hasn’t really figured that out yet.

But then, as Harry raises the cup to drink in his fill, his eyes catch a sharp edge of blue, and no, it’s not the ocean, and there could be galaxies and constellation and the fucking black hole in front of him, bridging a hindrance of a distance but he would never, ever, not fucking recognize what that blue is or who does it belong to.

Harry makes a double take, trying to calm his heart. He could feel the sky lighten up slowly, he could feel the sun’s about to set, and the breeze of the summer air is whipping lightly at his face. He could imagine waking up next to Louis on a day like this, soft and warm, voices coarse from hours of whispering and giggling quietly under cotton sheets. He could imagine snuggling close to the boy’s soft hair, breathing in his _Louisness_ with a smile. He could imagine his boy being in his arms again, and it made him ache inside because if he is imagining things right now, it will be like being sent back to his whirlpool of despair.

He walks with his eyes steady, trying to remain calm. Looking closer, he notices the other lad is blonde with pale white skin and pearly white teeth. His companion has his head thrown back in a laugh, revealing a familiar expanse of neck and tan skin and just… Jesus Christ.

“Lou?’’ he doesn’t know if the boy’s heard his voice, wouldn’t recognize it anyways. He’s unaware that he’s stopped walking, waves crashing up under his knees.

The boys walk closer towards him and it’s only a matter of time before green meets blue. It happens faster than he thought.

Blondie notices him first and looks at him confused, nudges the shorter lad to look ahead. The blue-eyed, sun-kissed boy stops laughing and looks at him, beautiful eyes widening, taking Harry’s breath away.

All movement stops.

All is silent.

Eons pass.

Waves crash.

Lips move, his name rolling off in the distance, into the silence between them. The blonde boy steps back in shock, like he knows what’s coming.

“Oh my God.’’ he hears, and like the world had stopped spinning, it starts moving again. Harry’s heart jumps to his throat because this is it. This is the  _fucking_ end of the goddamn world as they know it. This is his apocalypse.

Standing there is his Louis. His Louis.

Harry could actually see his face contorting into a beautiful shocking expression, gentle eyes squinting in the sudden light that’s painting the clouds in hues of pink, orange and yellow, warm eyes blinking at him quickly. Harry feels all the air is getting knocked out of his body because those are Louis’ eyes looking at him and it’s been so long, so damn long. Fuck.

Harry walks forward on shaky legs, red cup slipping from his slacked fingers, not taking his eyes off Louis, who was also approaching. It was him, in all his small, compact, dainty glory, barefoot with his fucking ankles on display, ankles that Harry spent hours kissing, caressing, lavishing. He was really there, right in front of him, right now.

Louis. 

His footsteps quicken as soon as the cup hits the sand. Like a catalyst springing him to life, he starts running. Louis starts running as well, water splashing all over the place, sand sinking under their hurried footsteps, just as Louis’ voice spreads everywhere with a shaky stream of “Harry! _HARRY! Oh my God! Haz!_ ”

"LOU!!" Harry could hear his voice echoing around them as he ran, "LOU!!"

And then…

And then, after two years, five months, four days and eighteen hours of longing, yearnings, and hoping beyond all hope, their worlds finally collide and reunite. Harry can finally envelope Louis into his long arms. Finally.

They crash into each other like a cosmic explosion, so hard and so intense that Harry sinks to the sand and water beneath him, knees buckling after taking Louis into a spin in the air, arms wrapping around his familiar waist—the badly-missed, beautiful waist that he’d been longing for.

Louis falls with him and they’re both breathing so hard and crying with an outburst of tears, clothes getting wet but god almighty, Louis is still as soft as Harry remembers, his hair is still as beautifully golden as Harry never thought he could actually forget, and he was still Louis in all his angles and solidity, instantly filling all his crooked parts, just like Harry remembered he could.

Harry could feel Louis’ arms flex around him as the boy he never stopped loving clings to him tightly, burying his face into Harry’s neck, crying.

“You’re here,” he says, sobs wracking his body,  _"Haz,_ you’re here."

"I’m here, baby," Harry breathes, like properly breathes the way he hasn’t in the past two years of his life. He can feel his chest expanding, emptiness filling up like a gas tank as he turns his face into Louis’ hair, taking breath after breath after breath, keeping his hands tight around Louis, soaking him up like a sponge _._ "I’m here. I found you, Oh my God, Lou. I found you. Oh my God, I’m never letting you go, never…"

"I missed you every day," Louis sobs, and Harry feels his eyes well up more when Louis starts burying kisses into the crook of his neck with every word he says. “I thought about you every day. Every day, sweetheart.’’ He pulls away from Harry’s neck and looks up at him through swollen eyes. "I knew you’d find me one day! I knew it."

"Oh my God," Harry says, still breathless because Louis is here, and he still looks as beautiful as ever. Harry missed him so  _much._ "There’s no way this is real. Lou."

“Stop it, you idiot, I’m real.’’ Louis chuckles only to crumble and cry again, sobbing loudly and burying his face into Harry’s neck again, muttering sweet, desperate nothings. Harry closes his eyes and sits back on his bum, salt water and mushy sand be damned. He pulls Louis in between his soaked legs, holding him as close as he could, as tight as he could. Louis grips Harry just as tight, molding into him, establishing all means to becoming one again. Harry wants to run his hands across Louis’ skin so he slips his hands under Louis’ soaked tank top and holds his bare waist, pressing his fingers in, leaving his mark again, claiming back what’s his. He keeps sniffing at Louis’ hair over and over again, unable to believe that he’d found the other half of his heart, that he’d gotten it back after losing it for so long.

“Wow,’’ Harry hears and he looks up, arms tightening around Louis and sees the blonde boy who’s looking at them bashfully, “I’m guessing you’re the sweet old Harry then?’’

Louis chuckles wetly and tries to turn around but Harry won’t let him. Louis chuckles again and sits up, folding his legs under his bum, planting kiss after kiss across Harry’s cheek. “Sorry Niall, give me a minute, yeah?’’

Hearing his scratchy, tearful voice makes him groan and he starts pecking Louis’ jaw, feeling his wet cheek. “More than a minute,” he mutters deeply. “I need more than a minute. Lou, please. I don’t want to let you go, ever…”

"Baby," Louis sobs back, like he still cannot believe it.

"I won’t let you go, Louis." Harry’s fingers trembled where they’re pressed, knuckles whitening from their tightness. "Not now, not ever. We’re gonna go home, and I’m gonna hold you again and I’ll never ever let you go. God, I miss you.” Harry starts crying again, voice losing all little control he had. “I love you. I love you. Lou, I love you.’’

Harry doesn’t know how long they sat there as the horizon split the sun and sent its rays rippling across the blue of the ocean, shattering more into a billion colors into the sky. They sat for what felt like hours, or maybe just a few minutes he’s not sure. Just as he’d wandered with no concept of life for a year, now is no different as he lost all concept of time as well. But it doesn’t matter; his Louis is back in his arms, that’s what matters.

"Sweetheart?" Louis whispers as he pulls back from his place in Harry’s neck, a place Harry cannot wait to fill again with Louis’ warmth and kisses.

“Yes?’’ Harry says, staring at whirlpools of deep, loving blue irises.

“Let’s go somewhere, yeah?’’ Louis says softly, sniffling, the tip of his nose adorably red. Harry pecks it before he nods.

“I’ll go anywhere with you. Anywhere you want.’’

 

By anywhere, they settle for that to be Louis and Niall’s flat for now, and Harry finally finds out where he is. Louis introduces him to Niall properly and then the lad, sensing there is some catching up about to take place, says he’ll go to the roof and catch up on some book of quotes that Louis gave him.

* * *

"You mean everything to me," Louis says abruptly.

Harry shifts underneath the thin single layer of a blanket, the fan above them moving in a steady motion, staving the heat off. It’s not as fresh as his room by the beach but there’s nowhere he’d rather be, what with his arms wrapped around a soft, warm waist. He blinks his eyes open and gazes down at the head of brown hair followed by a pair of crystal blue eyes already looking up at him from underneath a familiar-looking fringe.

It’s been two weeks and Harry had decided not to go back to Texas or back to volunteering. He’d gone to see Paul once to tell him all that and he was told that with things slowly coming back to normal and with the vaccine slowly being spread from one country to another, it won’t be long before they’re given tickets to London.

Harry doesn’t honestly care and he bids them farewell, hoping to see them again one day. Since then, he and Louis had been ignoring the outside world and all the positive changes happening around them. Once in a while, he’d seen Niall but that’s about it. After he’d gotten Louis back, they spent most of their time in Louis’ bed where they rediscovered one another (They had to move to the guest room to give Niall his privacy and enjoy their own). Louis told Harry about the plane crash and his time of isolation there as well as meeting the Horans and his journey to America. Harry told him about Nick and about the other guys, about volunteering which brought him to Orlando in the first place. There were some tears shed along the way, as they told each other what they’d been through, ending each story with breathless kisses and love-making until they could barely move.

“I sometimes couldn’t sleep,’’ Louis continues. “Thinking that I never told you enough,’’

Louis pauses. Harry stops breathing like the wind's been knocked out of him because the idea of Louis hurting, even a small amount of pain, never sits well with him. Louis wets his chapped lips, dry from the summer heat, fingers twitching where his hands are folded, pressed between their chests. "How much you meant to me."

“No, Lou. You told me enough.’’ Harry tells him.

Louis shakes his head with a sad smile, pulling in a short, tired breath before he meets Harry's eyes again. His expression is soft, always soft.

"It’s a bit scary, yeah? Being this co-dependent? I mean, it’s been two years and neither of us have met anyone else and for me, I was going to continue living that way, you know? Like, I’ve somehow put my life on hold waiting for you to somehow restart it.’’

Harry’s eyes soften.

“I died that day when I saw your plane crash, felt like someone had ripped the rug from underneath my feet over and over again, and yet I held unto the thought that you’d somehow made it. But I didn’t feel your presence or your warmth, I don’t know, I didn’t feel it vanish, like, you were still so fresh in my mind, that it hurt so bad seeing that and…’’ Harry chuckles, shaking his head. “God, it was the worst day of my life and yet, it wasn’t, and I couldn’t bring myself to move on neither. Even now, after accepting the thought of never getting to see you again, the idea of moving on hurt so much, like I don’t think I could’ve gone through with it.’’

Louis’ eyes flash with pain after listening to Harry’s sharing and he buries his face in Harry’s broad chest, inhaling.

“You're still the first thing in my head when I wake up,’’ he says quietly. “And the last before I fall asleep every night. It hurts waking up without you next to me and falling asleep without you by my side… I never thought you meant so much. It felt like a punishment, the thought of living on myself forever was making me incapable of moving on.’’

“Hey,’’ Harry pulls him back. “This is not your fault, alright? What happened took us by surprise, took the whole world by surprise.’’ He pauses, stares at Louis intensely. “You were not being punished, Louis. The fact that we’re here, after all that’s happened, I mean, we could’ve died so many times, you and I, y'know? Just, with the plane crash and fucking zombies, anything could’ve happened, and we could’ve died but above all that, Lou, after all that, we made it, right here, in this moment, and if that doesn’t mean we’re meant to be together, I don’t know what is.’’

Louis smiles softly, eyes welling up.

“I love you so much.’’ Louis says. “And I can’t wait to start my life again with you.’’

“Baby.’’ Harry pulls him in, buries his face in his hair. Louis’ right; they’ve got a new start, a new shot at life and he knows that he’s going to spend every moment of it with Louis.

 

_Was it a long journey?_

_Did it take you long to find me?_

_You’re here now,_

_welcome home.’’_

_-Warsan Shire_

_The End_

 


End file.
